


Education is Important

by narrow_staircases



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series, Stuttering Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3903511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narrow_staircases/pseuds/narrow_staircases
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is drunk, Sam is cranky. Drabbliest of drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Education is Important

Dean failing to slam the ill-fitted front door hard enough to force it closed is his first clue. The clatter of tupperware from a kitchen cabinet is the next one.

“Sammy? Where the f-f-fuck is the ramen?”

Sam rolls his eyes, turns his attention back to cosines and tangents. He wishes, not for the first time, that the public library in Creston stayed open past five on Fridays. Or that there was freaking Starbucks in this town. He could camp out with his trig book at the Burger King, drink milkshakes until midnight, maybe get enough peace and quite to finish a problem set without any interruptions—

“Yo, Sammy, d-did you eat up the last ramen?” Dean's leaning in through the doorway, body at an improbable angle.

“Homework, Dean.”

“Hungry, Sammy,” his brother sing-songs back.

“Dude, you finished the ramen yesterday. I told you to buy more.”

“You d-d-did not either tell m—me to buy m—”

“Dean, I did too, what are you deaf now?”

“What, are you d-d-deaf now?”

“God, Dean, knock it off.”

“G-god, D-d-dean, knock it off.”

Sam gives him a death glare. “You're too sloshed to even copy-cat, and I have a shit-ton of homework.”

“You're too sloshed to even c-copy-cat, and I have a shit-ton of homework.” Dean cocks an eyebrow at him, smirks.

Fine. He can play dirty, especially if it'll get Dean out of his hair. “Mega monster Metallica marshmallow marbles. Also since when is it my responsibility to provide you with food?”

“M—mega m—m—monster m—Metallica m—m— f-f-f-fuck you.” Dean's actually red in the face from exertion, but his grin is good natured. “How 'bout m— cheese 'nd p-pasta, we got that?”

“Bottom shelf.” Sam huffs and rearranges his notebook on the bed as loudly as possible. “I swear to God, when I'm gone, you're going to starve to death from being _too lazy to look for food!_ ”

Dean's halfway through a wobbly turn in the doorway, freezes with his back to Sam. His breathing is heavy and controlled, and for a moment Sam is convinced he's about to hurl right outside his room (which, he doesn't care how drunk Dean is, he is cleaning that up himself, like  _immediately_ ). Instead, Dean takes another deep breath. “Fuck you,” he says, quietly, and heads back to the kitchen.

 


End file.
